


mist

by frosmxths



Series: (dis)connect [4]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosmxths/pseuds/frosmxths
Summary: He tries to breathe—feels it tremble and get stuck at the back of his throat, the roof of his mouth—He inhales shakily, once—feels it tangle with feelings and thoughts and stress (and he has to calm down, he has to get water and remember he just has tobreathe, breathe so he can get back and get his shit and work done and sleep and wake up tomorrow and keep going and—).His exhale comes out as a sob—he holds himself closer, breathes again and drowns and almost suffocates in every breath, every sob, again and again and again and—Shit.He feels so—he feels so alone—
Relationships: Son Dongju | Xion/Yeo Hwanwoong
Series: (dis)connect [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761502
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57





	mist

**Author's Note:**

> everything in this series so far has had depictions of anxiety in little actions/narration, but i think this instance has it a lot stronger at the beginning, so i thought i should add a warning here as well as a tag. please be mindful of urself when reading and take care

It’s around 3am when Dongju finds himself abruptly getting up from his desk, quick _brb_ typed into his class group chat and phone left face-down next to his laptop—he fixes the chair, spares a glance at Hwanwoong on the other side of the room, still asleep and curled up under blankets.

Dongju considers slipping into his bed, considers cuddling up to Hwanwoong and bothering him until he woke up—until he complained and sighed in exasperation, maybe he’d even hold Dongju close so he could cry a little, just maybe.

He considers it, hands resting on the backrest of the creaky office chair—moving it from side to side in nervous movements—he considers it, and then he decides not to, decides that he’s okay, he doesn’t need help right now, Hwanwoong needs sleep—he taps once at the chair with his right hand, then turns towards the room's door.

Water—he just needs water—needs to find peace in walking to the kitchen—in downing water and simply breathing for a minute or two before getting back to the bedroom and to the damn assignment due the next week that no one even seems to care about or want to look over—and it’s 3am and there’s less than five days before it’s due, and he has at least three other things to get through—to look over and finish and send—rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, over and over and over until—

He pushes open the kitchen door, mind a blurry mess, stumbles through and pushes his bangs away from his face. His thoughts are loud, overwhelming, and he wonders just how much he can leave them behind—manages to somehow make it to the kitchen counter. His hands feel shaky over cheap melamine countertops—the cold of the surface against his hands as grounding as its almost painful.

He focuses on the flat surface of it—clean for once after all his nagging at Seoho and Hwanwoong for almost a week (pick up the trash, just wash the dishes a little more often, let’s move this around so there’s more space—hyung, why’re you laughing, hey, let’s get this damn house cleaner for once, come on, there’s barely any space for me to _move_ here—). He breathes in, eyes like an out of focus camera lens, one that’s trying to find the right way to be turned so it can catch _something_ and make it make sense—

When he focuses them again, it’s on a single spot—a stain of dirt on the grey-white melamine. He brings a shaky hand over it, scratches at it softly—it doesn’t come off, feels rough on his fingertips—he frowns, scratches harder, nail digging into nothing until it hurts. He scratches until the tip of his finger and down to his nail hurt, hurt, _hurt_ —

Whatever’s stuck on the counter, though, doesn’t come out.

He breathes in, sharp, lifts his hand away from the stain and the counter.

Inhale—exhale—inhale—exhale—exhale—exhale—exhale exhale exhale exhaleexhaleexhale _exhaleexhaleexhale—_

His eyes sting—he’s crying (he hadn’t noticed).

He brings a hand up to his forehead, presses down and lets his eyes close—he grips onto the counter a little tighter, bites at his lip as he feels his whole body start to shake and his breathing get stuck, stuck, stuck, _stuck_.

The hand on his face rubs at his eyes under his glasses, back of it hard and pressing as if simply trying to _stop—_ trying to just make it all _stop_.

It doesn’t—he chokes on a breath, lets go of the counter to just collapse—his knees hit the kitchen floor (cold cold coldcold _cold_ ), his whole body feels heavy, heavy and stiff and like rusted metal and broken, frozen parts and—

He manages to turn around, back resting against clean white wooden drawers, aluminium handles digging into his back and skin. He curls up as best as he can, arms heavy over his knees and head falling over them.

He tries to breathe—feels it tremble and get stuck at the back of his throat, the roof of his mouth—

He inhales shakily, once—feels it tangle with feelings and thoughts and stress (and he has to calm down, he has to get water and remember he just has to _breathe_ , breathe so he can get back and get his shit and work done and sleep and wake up tomorrow and keep going and—).

His exhale comes out as a sob—he holds himself closer, breathes again and drowns and almost suffocates in every breath, every sob, again and again and again and—

 _Shit_.

He feels so—he feels so alone—

He looks for his phone, pats at his pockets before remembering that he left it on his desk, face down and everything muted and off and— _fuck_. He lets out a noise, frustrated and choking, runs a hand through his hair—grabs at his glasses and drops them carelessly somewhere on the floor next to him.

He wants—he wants someone—he doesn’t want to be alone, he wants Hwanwoong or Seoho, he wants to be held and he wants to feel safe and he just wants to feel _calm and—_

He pushes himself off the floor, rushed and unsteady on his feet—hits himself against the drawer and the edge of the counter and handles and wood and against the cold, cold, cold—has to support himself on the table and everywhere so he can even make it out of the kitchen without collapsing again.

Breathing hurts—he doesn’t know what he’s even supposed to be doing—how he’s even supposed to breathe and he can’t breathe and it’s not _working_ and he’s suffocating suffocating _suffocating and it hurts—hurts hurts hurts hurtssofuckingbad—_

He stops next to the door of his room, half-open and greeting into darkness. He leans against the wall, feels like he’s ran and fallen and broken everything—feels like he’s ran until everything stung and then just kept running and running and—

He chokes out a sob again—rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand again and he just won’t stop crying and— _fucking hell_.

He pushes the door open, he doesn’t bother to close it behind him as he stumbles in, walks straight to Hwanwoong’s bed (and then he hears his phone fucking _buzzing_ on the desk, sees light from the screen reflected on his desk and towards the bottom of his laptop and he almost feels it all crawl all over his skin and down to his lungs). Hwanwoong’s still asleep, of course is (and Dongju would bother, would take pictures because he’s just so _cute_ but his head is spinning, and he feels like he’s breaking down over and over and over again again again—).

“Hyung” He shoves at Hwanwoong’s shoulder hard- feels tears running down his face and he doesn’t even have the will to try and stop them—stop himself from spilling his heart out and almost begging to just—“Hwanwoong” Dongju’s voice breaks on the name—a loud sob tearing out and painful on his ears and throat and—and then his phone fucking buzzes again and it crawls and stabs at his skin until he’s shoving at Hwanwoong’s _everywhere_ harder and crying so much he can’t even fucking _see_.

“Hwanwoo—” He chokes, coughs out and stumbles. “Hwanwoong. Hwanwoong Hwanwoong Hwanwoong— _Woong”_ His hands slip from where they’re shoving and Dongju feels like he’s breaking breaking _breaking_. “Wake up” He falls forward, rests his head against Hwanwoong’s shoulder—Hwanwoong stirs, turns a little towards Dongju and Dongju—Dongju just cries, clings to the bedsheets and Hwanwoong’s shirt until his grip hurts.

“Come on—please wake up, please—” His voice hurts—wet and broken against cloth and messy bedsheets.

“…’ju?” Dongju sobs—wordless as Hwanwoong moves over—still almost asleep, but awake enough to process _something_ — making room for Dongju to fit, fall more comfortably on the bed and rush under the covers and against Hwanwoong’s chest. Hwanwoong only lets out a noise—a quiet mumble that might be Dongju’s name as he buries his face into Dongju’s hair, lets his hand move to find Dongju’s—finds it gripping against his shirt like a lifeline.

He doesn’t pry him away—instead rests his hand over Dongju’s and hums, voice and movements still slow and a little weak. Dongju lets him, fits himself better, lets go of Hwanwoong’s shirt—instead pulls Hwanwoong’s hand so he can hold it, trap it between both of them with a tight grip.

He feels warmer, racings thoughts still a marathon in his head as he lets himself simply cry against the front of Hwanwoong’s pyjama shirt. Air seems almost foreign—feels like it’s running away and Dongju doesn’t notice he’s starting to cough and choke up again until Hwanwoong lets out a sleepy groan, holds his hand a little tighter—uses the other he has stuck below and between them to push at Dongju’s chest, face—until they’re at eye level and Dongju can see, through a veil of tears and suffocation, that Hwanwoong’s eyes are a little more open. They’re hazy with sleep, still in that state between awake and not, but they’re warm, looking at Dongju in quiet worry and more than a little love.

“What’s wrong?” Mumbled, syllables mixing and matching and a mess of affection. Dongju shrugs, scoots closer, breathes out shakily—grips Hwanwoong’s hand and the bedsheets under him tighter.

“Don’t—” He chokes up, stammers “Don’t know. Stress. Too much, I—” Hwanwoong’s brow furrows. He moves closer, too, places a kiss to Dongju’s cheek, forehead—a peck to his lips. Dongju sniffles, laughs a little before he breaks again, tears fresh and burning against his skin. “I’m just—everything feels wrong? And I get… angry and just—things won’t move right and then I do it wrong and—” Hwanwoong whines, quiet, rubs his forehead against Dongju’s—against his face before kissing the corner of his lips.

“You’re doing good, Dongju” Hwanwoong lets go of Dongju’s hand (for a second, Dongju wants to cry even more, wants to reach out again and pull Hwanwoong closer and _just please, please I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to—_ ), then lifts of of his hands to hold Dongju’s face softly, eyes closed for a moment as a cute little yawn leaves him—and then he’s bumping their foreheads together, breathing against Dongju’s skin, oxygen and carbon dioxide a dizzying cocktail shared into his lungs and back out again. “You’re okay” His fingers are soft against Dongju’s cheek, gently brush against skin. Dongju closes his eyes, leans into Hwanwoong’s touch with sniffles and his whole body shaking.

“’m not” Dongju’s voice is unsure, a weak mumble. Hwanwoong frowns, holds Dongju’s face a little more firmly. Dongju shuts his eyes tighter, almost tries to shy away from Hwanwoong’s touch at the same time he doesn’t—doesn’t want to be anywhere else that’s not here, with Hwanwoong, with Seoho sleeping in the next room over—safe and with everything in his head just a little quieter and not feeling like the world will fall apart at the way things are just not—. “I know it’s—I know it’s fine and it’s not the end—the end of the world and I know it doesn’t—shouldn’t matter but it just—” He sniffles, breathes and feels building pressure behind his eyes and down his trachea and—“It’s not right or done and—it’s just not—not okay it’s not—“

“Baby” The pet name slips easily, Dongju chokes, presses his forehead closer to Hwanwoong’s until it’s almost painful “You’re okay—it’s okay” _it’s okay that it matters even when it shouldn’t, it’s okay to want to be okay_ — Hwanwoong leans forward, kisses Dongju again—a second, then moves away (and it takes everything in Dongju not to chase after him, not to cling to Hwanwoong’s touch and lips and everything until he doesn’t feel like he even _exists_ anymore). “’m really proud of you” Another kiss, Dongju’s hands grip Hwanwoong’s clothes, breathing almost painful still “I love you a lot, yeah?”

Dongju sniffles—voice lost, lets out broken syllables in little high-pitched noises that Hwanwoong kisses and kisses and _kisses_ away.

“Love you too” between kisses, dyed in the colour of tears and fears and every syllable unsteady. Hwanwoong gives Dongju a smile—another kiss. “I just— I don’t even _know_ ” The last word breaks—melts into crying again—and Dongju’s almost mad, frustrated even as Hwanwoong kisses any complaints from his lips—until he’s breathless but not suffocating, not anymore—only breathless and loved (and his mind keeps screaming—pushing to just get back work, fix it all, try again and finish, finish, _finish—_ never-ending whirlwind yelling at him to just go work, improve and finish and check it over and finish, finish, _finish—_ ).

Hwanwoong lets go of his face, a sleepy sigh leaving his lips as he pushes Dongju on his back gently, movements still slow—straddles him, hands on either side of his head and Hwanwoong over him—pretty and still sleepy and so fucking _loving_ Dongju can’t—can’t help that he just _keeps crying._

“Your head’s loud” Hwanwoong leans down, kisses Dongju’s cheek, pokes at one of Dongju’s arms with one hand so it moves—so Dongju’s hand is at Hwanwoong’s reach and he can hold it again. He brings their joined hands up, back of Dongju’s hand towards his lips—he places a kiss there. “Focus on me” Dongju only nods—lets Hwanwoong kiss the back of his hand again—Hwanwoong’s warm, kisses again and again—moves to kiss at the back of his wrist too, up and around to kiss at his fingers and a little down his arm again.

He then gives Dongju a smile, lowers their hands before leaning down and taking Dongju’s lips—kisses him until Dongju’s brain is fuzzy, until his free hand clings to Hwanwoong’s shirt and his ears _ring_ —until there are tears drowning everything wet and uncomfortable and until Dongju’s thoughts all spiral and end in _Hwanwoong_.

Hwanwoong moves away—and this time, Dongju chases him—chases his lips and warmth, pitiful sobs painful and spilling out. He pulls Hwanwoong back in, lets go of his hand to hold Hwanwoong’s neck, grip tight on the hair at the nape of his neck—until their teeth clack painfully and Hwanwoong breathes out a laugh against his skin—until they’re kissing again and Dongju’s brain is so, so, _so foggy._

“Let’s go sleep, ‘kay?” Whispered against Dongju’s skin—Dongju whines, shakes his head and tries to point at his desk with one hand. Hwanwoong doesn’t let him, shushes him with a peck and holds Dongju’s hand to his chest.

“I have—” he sniffles, rubs at his eyes and nose with his free hand “work, I can’t just—” Hwanwoong frowns at him, holds his hand tighter, closer still. Dongju’s other hand is against the bedsheets now, grip nervous and painful-looking—Hwanwoong reaches out for it, too, smiles at Dongju—smoothes his hand against the bedsheets and against his own chest.

“You can” He leans down, gives Dongju another peck—on the lips, on his cheek, down to his throat and chin. “You can work tomorrow, later, not now” Letting go of Dongju’s hands, he falls on his side on the bed, pulls at Dongju’s side so they’re facing each other again. “It won’t” Hwanwoong yawns softly, leans in to nuzzle against Dongju’s face, kiss away tears that just won’t _leave_. “come out…well” He blinks, kisses at Dongju’s neck before burying his face against it. “Tomorrow’ll be better” Quieter, almost a whisper. “t’s okay to rest now”

Dongju chokes again, holds Hwanwoong closer and feels the whirlwind turn and turn and _turn_ and his head’s a mess of contradictions he just—

Hwanwoong brings one hand around him, weakly holds onto the back of Dongju’s shirt—brings his other hand to rest flat against the front. “It’s okay to cry, too”

“I’m sorr—” Hwanwoong makes a noise—disapproval, moves away from the crook of Dongju’s neck to throw him a sleepy glare. Dongju winces, feels the corners of his eyes burn again, lets out a shaky exhale—almost pushes Hwanwoong away because the whirlwind had turned into _get away_ on repeat.

Hwanwoong stops him, lifts his head up and pulls him closer from the hand he has on his back. “Don’t” He huffs out, brings the hand on Dongju’s chest up to pat his cheek softly. “t’s okay. You can cry” Hwanwoong smiles, lowers his hand and fits it against Dongju’s chest—blinks a few times before keeping his eyes closed, breathing even and everything _warm_.

Dongju breathes out, swallows back apologies and words that have stopped making sense to him—pushes back guilts to let out a quiet _thank you_ that hits Hwanwoong’s skin softly.

A beat of silence, Dongju sniffles—once, twice, thrice—

“…Hyung?” Hwanwoong hums, eyes half-open now, looking at Dongju. Dongju swallows, breathes—in and out, until his throat feels less like it’s turning and twisting—less like it’s constricting and painful. “Can you—will you stay awake?” A whisper, Hwanwoong hums—playful sleepy smile on his lips.

“Maybe” He drags out the syllables, laughs a little—closes his eyes and bumps their foreheads together again.

Another beat—silence, Dongju feels dry tears on his eyes—feels the mist in his brain take over and numb, numb, _numb_ everything—

Until there’s Hwanwoong’s breathing, a quiet laugh—eyes full of kindness and the urge to cry all over again.

“As long as you need” a mumble, a kiss. “Only because I love you” tone teasing as he opens his eyes, brings both hands up to cup Dongju’s face again—still as tenderly as before.

Dongju breathes, brings a hand up over Hwanwoong’s and laughs—airy and wavering as he leans in, kisses Hwanwoong a quiet _good night_ and a clear, clear _thank you for loving me_ hidden behind tears and the colour of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/frosmxths)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/frosmxths)


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